


He's Not Like Us

by BetterInFiction



Category: Midnight Special (2016), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adventure, BAMF Derek, BAMF Scott, BAMF Stiles, Blood and Gore, Drama, Explicit Language, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Midnight Special AU, More tags to be added, Rating May Change, Slow Build, Spark Stiles Stilinski, everyone is a BAMF, life and death, stiles is something
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-06-01 22:12:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6538210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetterInFiction/pseuds/BetterInFiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles lived in a small world. There was his best friend Scott, Deucalion and the pack on the Ranch. And there were also the voices in his head and the power that sometimes consumed him. Giving him glimpses of something else, another world.<br/>Deucalion wanted him for something.<br/>The Argents wanted him for something else.<br/>For what he didn't know. But he was sure he wasn't going to like it.<br/>He needed freedom.<br/>But there was a chance that he would die before that would happen...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

His heart was pounding in his chest. He kept his eyes clenched closed. He could feel it, the rumble in his bones. He was going to lose it and he couldn’t afford to. He grit his teeth and curled in tighter on himself, hands gripping his ears to keep the voices out.

_No, no, no, no, no!_ He willed his power away, if he let loose now it would ruin everything they had planned. He jolted at the knock on the door.

“Stiles it’s time to go!” Scott whispered, his hand was gentle but insistent on his shoulder. He tilted his head up, but kept his eyes closed. He felt the sunglasses slip carefully over his ears. They were large, medical glasses, pitch black and protected his eyes on all sides. He knew that they wouldn’t do anything to help if he actually went “nuclear” but they were better than nothing.

“Let’s go,” Scott nodded once they locked eyes. Stiles swallowed heavily, steeling himself, before grabbing his best friend’s hand. This was it. Quietly and quickly they left Stiles’ bedroom behind.

“What did you do?” Stiles asked, as they carefully make their ways through the halls of the compound. The Ranch was oddly quiet and deserted. He felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin.

“I caused a distraction,” Scott answered bluntly, peeking around a corner.

“Scott, what did you do?” Stiles asked again, grabbing his arm to try and make him stop for a moment. He could smell smoke. But he didn’t get an answer because Scott was yanking him towards an exit and suddenly they were outside.

_Outside._

Stiles had to stop moving for a second as the fresh air hit him. He couldn’t even remember the last time that he had been outside. A cold breeze went right through him and he almost laughed with giddiness. He looked up and thought he could see stars through his extra dark shades, millions of faint pinpricks of light shining above him.

_There were so many of them._

Was this what freedom was like?

“Stiles c’mon! We have to go.” He was pulled out of his wonderment by the feeling of his arm nearly being pulled out of socket. _Damn werewolf strength,_ he thought but it was fleeting. Scott was leading him towards the forest. Stiles noticed that even the animals were quiet. Waiting.

“We’re almost there,” Scott urged as he caught Stiles from tripping. Scott’s eyesight was better than Stiles’ even without the sunglasses in the dark. Scott was practically carrying him at this point.

“Where-” the question died in his throat as a blood-chilling scream penetrated the silence. They both froze as the preserve lit up with a flurry of noise, animals trying to escape the assault. Stiles knew that scream. He took a step back towards the Ranch but Scott was there hauling him back in the opposite direction before the scream had finished.

“That was Lydia!” Stiles shouted, ears ringing, as the sound died out.

“I know,” Scott was pale, his jaw set in a determined way that Stiles had never seen before. He caught a glimpse of the red glow hiding in his eyes.

“We have to go back!” he struggled uselessly.

“Stiles we can’t!” Scott shouted, pulling him clear off his feet and into the underbrush. He let himself be dragged, going limp in his friend’s hold for a moment as he processed. He knew they had to keep on moving. Lydia had said she would stay behind; it was safer for him that way.

_But what caused her to scream?_

_Was she going to be okay?_

_Was this all just a mistake?_

The roar drowned out his thoughts. _Deucalion._ They knew that he was gone. There was no going back.

He got his feet under him and ran. If they got caught Scott would die. _Everyone_ would die.

“Here!” Scott exclaimed suddenly, coming to a halt. Stiles didn’t understand, there was nothing there but leaves and vines. Scott jumped forward and started attacking the shrubbery with his claws, rapidly tearing it away. Stiles thought he had finally lost it until he caught the glimpse of pale blue underneath the green. It was a Jeep. He jumped in and started to help clearing the vehicle of debris.

“Get in!” Scott ordered, once the Jeep was mostly clear. He watched as Scott jumped in the driver’s side, quickly diving into the foot well and pulling out wires and putting them together. To his surprise the car sparked to life. Scott threw the car into gear and took off into to bushes.

“Seatbelt Scott!” Stiles shouted out as they bounced around.

“I’ll heal,” Scott grit out, jerking the wheel.

“Not if your head comes off,” he snarked back, holding on for dear life as they bounded over a small brook.

“Trying to save our lives here Stiles!” Stiles shut up then, watching as trees and rocks skimmed by dangerously close. He thought he heard another roar let loose behind them. They had to be leaving an obvious trail.

He closed his eyes again, hands gripping the rough material of the seatbelt too tight against his chest to anchor him. He reached inside himself to grasp a piece of his spark, the power that he hated so much. It was dangerous right now but necessary. He felt the warmth seep into his blood stream, making the rumble in his bones more extreme for just a second as he focused on destroying their scent. The car jerked violently underneath him as he concentrated harder. _Almost got it!_ he thought, mentally following their trail all the way back to before Scott came to get him.

“Stiles!” His eyes flew open, a bright flash illuminating the interior of the car for a split second before dying down as fast as it came. The violent rumble beneath them settled immediately. “Stiles!”

“I’m fine!” he grit out, undoing his seatbelt in a flash to put his head between his knees. The only sound in the cabin was him breathing harshly through his nose to try and quell the nausea.

“What did you do?” Scott shouted once his heart rate had settled.

“I caused a distraction,” he replied slowly. Carefully he pried his fingernails from his palms, wincing slightly at the tiny trickle of blood. His whole body was stiff already.

“What did you do?” Scott repeated with a growl.

“Careful Scott, your Alpha is showing,” Stiles smirked shakily, sitting up and putting his seatbelt back on. Scott’s jaw snapped shut with an audible pop and Stiles focused on their surroundings. They were on a road now, he wasn’t sure when that had happened.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern lacing his tone.

“I’m fine now,” Stiles sighed, slumping in the seat. Scott’s hand landed heavily on his shoulder, his thumb brushing his neck. “It’s not your pain to take Scott.”

“Let me help,” he said softly, sounding a lot more like the kind and gentle kid Stiles used to know before this mess started. The offer was tempting and he was tired enough almost to accept… but he knew better. He shrugged out from under Scott’s grip and leaned against the door, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head so that no skin was showing.

“You have to drive Scott.”

“Okay,” the hand disappeared and Stiles felt his chest tighten.

They were out.

They had a chance to be free.

But they still had a long way to go.

And there was still a chance that he would die before that would happen…

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Deucalion was furious. No. He was _beyond_ furious. He inhaled the smell of ash on every breath, listening as his alphas moved around the still smoldering shell of what was once the meeting hall. It was the McCall brat, he knew. He could still get a fragment of his scent if he concentrated hard enough. He should have killed him the second his True Alpha nature emerged. Fuck, he should have killed him the second he realized how deep the bond between him and the boy went. Then they wouldn’t be standing in this mess.

“Deucalion,” Ennis appeared by his side.

“You better be here to tell me that you know where they are,” he stated, keeping his voice a deadly calm. He knew the answer was negative and his mood soured even further. _Damn that child._

“No. They got away in a car,” Ennis replied.

“Where did they get a car in the middle of the woods?” he asked, claws tightening around his cane.

“They had help,” came the obvious reply. Deucalion snarled, his claws finding new purchase in the soft flesh of Ennis’s stomach.

“Don’t waste time trying to placate me,” he growled into Ennis’s ear, digging his claws in deeper. “Tell me the truth. The Spark and the True Alpha got away and you have no idea where they went.” He felt Ennis take a shallow breath against him, his blood pulsing around his hand.

“The Spark and the True Alpha got away,” he shuddered. “I don’t know where they went.”

“Now that wasn’t so hard was it?” he asked, removing his claws. He felt as Ennis relaxed minutely. The alpha would survive from the wound.

But that wasn’t acceptable.

Ennis was dead before he could even blink. _Absolutely disgusting._

He turned away from the corpse, stalking over to the Banshee, his ears still ringing from her earlier shriek. The girl was crumpled on the ground; in her lap was the head of that alpha boy, his blood pooled around them. The boy’s twin stood solemnly above them, anger bristling at his skin. The boy had been on guard duty and now he was dead. But the girl… she had been close to the brats. She looked up at him defiantly, her hair curling around her face like a crown of fire. She didn’t fool him however; he could smell the underlying sweetness of fear in her scent.

“Now, now Lydia,” he said sweetly. “You’ve only brought this on yourself.”

“Fuck you Deucalion,” she hissed. Deucalion clucked disapprovingly, crouching down to her level. He grasped her chin between his fingers, claws pricking at her porcelain skin.

“Don’t make this harder Lydia,” he said calmly, all pretense of friendliness gone from his tone. “Tell me,” he tightened his grip. “Where. Did. They. Go?” The girl’s heartbeat stuttered for a moment. He felt the muscles under his fingers tighten and he knew he wasn’t going to get an answer. Yet.

“Fuck you,” she repeated through gritted teeth.

“Always difficult, my dear,” he sighed. “The time for games has passed. Take her to the cellar,” he ordered a nearby wolf, smirking pleasantly as she struggled. She would regret her defiance. “Kali.” The woman appeared, eyes already glowing. “You have four days to find the Spark and bring him back _alive,_ ” he ordered with a growl.

“What about the other brat?” she asked.

“Scott McCall has exceeded his usefulness.” Kali nodded, a menacing grin gracing her features.

            “Ethan.” The boy flinched but stepped forward nonetheless. “What did you know about your brother’s treachery?”

            “Nothing Deucalion.” His heartbeat was steady. “He had to have been tricked somehow. Maybe Stiles used magic on him-”

“ _Stiles?_ ”

“I mean the Spark.” Ethan corrected quickly.

“I see. And what is it that you want Ethan? Do you want revenge for your brother?” he asked.

“N-no,” he stuttered, but not in lie. “I want the plan to be executed.” Deucalion listened carefully. The boy had a foolish past, he was easily swayed, but he had something to prove.

“You are going to accompany Kali. Make sure she doesn’t get carried away, I want the boy in one piece.”

“Yes sir.”

“I also want you pick up someone on the way,” he smiled. He always liked the chase.

* * *

 

“Stiles, it’s time to go.” Stiles blinked awake to Scott shaking his shoulder. The teen was already ready; placing the comforter they had hung over the window back on the bed. _“Just like camping in a blanket fort,”_ he had joked.

“Just give me a second,” he mumbled groggily. They had managed to find a small rundown motel in Ohio to crash at just as the sun was rising and cutting it dangerously close. Stiles staggered into the dirty bathroom. He didn’t have time for a proper wash but he felt absolutely disgusting. He turned on the sink faucet, turning his nose up as the water came out tinted brown.

“Beggars can’t be choosers Stilinski,” he said to himself before dunking his head under the frigid water.”

He looked at himself in the mirror once he felt somewhat human again. However the reflection looking back at him did not. His skin was paler than usual, the shadows under his eyes deep and bruised. His cheekbones were sharp making him look gaunt and more angular. He was becoming a ghost. He dried his face on the cigarette burned towel, slipped on the glasses and left the bathroom.

They were free. They would survive. Or die trying.

“You ready?” Scott asked, hand already on the doorknob as he emerged. Stiles nodded, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Quickly they left the room, scurrying across the parking lot to the dusty jeep. Not a soul in sight. After living most of his life surrounded by the tall trees of the Vermont woods the flat barrenness of Ohio was strange.

“It should take us about four and a half hours to get to Chicago,” Scott said as they peeled onto the interstate.

“Did we pack any road tunes?” Stiles smiled, trying to break some of the tension.

“Wasn’t exactly high on the list of priorities,” Scott replied dryly.

“What? No road music? How are we going to survive? I’m going to go insane!” Stiles exaggerated.

“Isn’t it the navigator’s job to pack music?” Scott asked.

“Aw shit, I guess your right,” Stiles slunk down in his seat. “Does the radio work?”

“You really should sleep Stiles,” his friend sighed.

“What kind of friend would I be if I just slept the whole time?” he asked, watching as the street lamps zoomed by, illuminating unfamiliar exits signs. _In other conditions this would be fun,_ he thought. That’s what road trips with your best friend were supposed to be like anyway… “‘Sides I slept all day. I’m fine.” He shook the dark thoughts out of his head and leaned forward to play with the static-y radio.

“You sure?” he prodded. Stiles ignored him, the static giving away to a classic rock radio station, Queen busting through the speakers suddenly. Stiles smiled and relaxed.

“I don’t want to risk you getting highway madness Scotty,” he pulled his feet up to rest on the dash.

“Highway madness?”

“Yeah, the monotony of the roads and flashing lights,” he gestured wildly. “Causing something to snap in your brain and just go into a crazy road rage and kill us all.”

“I’m pretty sure you made that up,” Scott smiled.

“I’m pretty sure it’s actually a thing.”

“How would you even know?” Stiles just shrugged and tapped the side of his forehead knowingly. “You’re so full of it.” Scott laughed and Stiles joined in. It had been a while since he had heard his friend laugh. They fell into a comfortable silence, the radio sometimes fading out for a couple of miles before picking up a new station.

“So our ‘friend’…” Stiles started.

“He’s a wolf,” Scott said, his uneven jaw set in a firm line again.

“And?” he really didn’t know anything much about their mysterious benefactor. Except that he lived in Chicago and that he was aware of a hidden car on Deucalion’s property.

“His name is Peter, he used to live on the Ranch way before us. But he left,” Scott trailed off.

“And?” Stiles prodded.

“He’s the wolf that bit me,” he cringed.

“What?!” he squawked. “We’re taking directions from the psycho that _bit you_ and then _ran away?”_

“He reached out to me! I didn’t see any other option,” Scott explained.

“ _Scott,”_ Stiles groaned, thunking his skull repeatedly against the headrest.

“He hasn’t steered us wrong so far!” Scott proclaimed.

“Because he’s steering us right into a trap!” he shot back.

“You don’t know that!” Scott went serious.

“I don’t _not_ know that,” Stiles frowned.

“What does your gut say?” Scott asked.

“My _gut?”_ Scott made a wild one-armed motion. “You just gestured to all of me!”

“The _thing! It!_ You know what I mean! Remember when we were nine and I broke my arm? You _freaked_ out before, told me not to climb that tree,” he explained.

“Scott you broke your arm because I had a _freak_ attack and you fell out of the tree trying to get to me,” Stiles countered.

“Oh right,” Scott said softly. Stiles remembered that day, it was not too long after that Deucalion stopped letting him outside.

But Scott did have a point. His Spark would flicker and flare in his blood when there was a potential threat. But his Spark was so unpredictable now; tapping into it was too risky.

“My gut is guessing we don’t have any other options,” he sighed after a few minutes of tense silence. Scott cracked one of his crooked grins but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“It’s going to work, I promise,” Scott nodded. “If not then it’s on to the next plan.”

“Right,” Stiles mumbled, glancing out the window into the vast nothingness. He knew what the next plan was.

* * *

 

Derek Hale wasn’t haven’t the ideal week. In fact, the whole month could go to hell. He had trekked to Chicago to find his wayward uncle only to find out that the man was dead. Had been for the past two weeks. An unclaimed body in a morgue. Now here he was. _“The prodigal nephew hath returned,”_ that’s what Peter would have said, sitting casually on the spiral staircase, some obscure novel in his hand. But it was also just like Peter to leave him to clean up his mess. That was Peter.

And fuck if Derek was going to admit that he might actually miss the bastard.

He was trying to hack into Peter’s computer when the knocking started. He ignored it at first, assuming it was some nosy neighbor or a ‘old friend’ come to collect a debt now that Peter’s death was public. But looking at the clock told him told him it was too early for anyone to be visiting. _So not a friendly visit then._

There were two heartbeats outside the metal door. He tensed as the scent hit him. One was wolf, an alpha; the other was something else… they both smelled like sweat, anxiety, and old pine.

Slowly he made his way to the door, prepared for anything.

He wasn’t prepared to see two grimy teenagers on the stoop. The werewolf’s hand was frozen in mid-knock, eyes locked on Derek’s and mouth slack in surprise. The other boy, the one whose scent he _still_ couldn’t figure out, was wearing these ridiculous sunglasses and he was jittery, like electricity was trying to come out of his fingers. Immediately he knew that he didn’t like these kids.

“What?” he asked, voice a little gruff from disuse. The teen managed to lower his hand but his mouth still gaped like a fish’s. Surely his nose was wrong, this boy couldn’t be an alpha, both of them were hardly even eighteen.

“Oh. Hey, hello there,” the glasses wearing freak started to stutter.

“What. Do. You. Want?” Derek reiterated, wondering if these kids were here asking for some charity donation. Obviously there was something wrong with them.

“We’re looking for Peter Hale,” the alpha boy stated a little shakily, finally finding his voice. Derek tensed.

“He’s dead. Now leave,” his fingers tensed on the door handle. Ready to close it in their faces.

“You-you’re kidding.” Derek watched as the boy seemed to actually deflate before his eyes, puppy dog brown eyes wide. The other placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked, fingers itching, claws ready. He could use a fight.

“Look here Sourwolf.” Derek raised an eyebrow, surprised to hear the other kid speak again. “We just drove something like a thousand miles to see Peter Hale. We don’t have to answer to you.” Derek watched as a glimmer flashed behind the dark sunglasses.

“You’re a Spark,” Derek stated, a bit dumbfounded. Sparks were rare and thought to be extinct.

“Very astute, did you exhaust your single brain cell coming to that realization?” he retorted. Derek let loose a growl, his own eyes flashing blue.

“Quit it Stiles. Let’s just go.” Alpha boy was tugging on _Stiles’_ plaid over shirt.

“Where’s your pack?” the words tumbled out of Derek’s mouth before he could stop them.

They both stopped and looked at him.

“We’re not accepting any applications,” Stiles, _seriously what kind of shit name was Stiles,_ retorted. The other boy elbowed him harshly in the ribs.

“It’s just us. My name’s Scott,” he gestured to himself, “and this is Stiles. Peter was supposed to help us. He did used to live here right?”

Derek couldn’t detect a lie in their heartbeats. Further examining the two he could see the wear in their bodies; the shadows under Scott’s eyes and the sallowness in Stiles’ face. These kids were trouble.

“You can come in for five minutes,” he stepped aside. “But I can’t help you.”

“Wait a second, who even _are_ you?” Stiles asked.

“I’m Derek Hale. Peter’s nephew.”

Derek had a feeling he was going to regret this.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wasn't going to end it here but I really wanted to put out a chapter and this felt decent so...

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the film Midnight Special. Shouldn't be spoiler-y since I've conformed it to the world of TW. But go see the movie anyway if you can. Worth it.
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://somewherevalentine.tumblr.com/)


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